Pam-Ann by Lindsey Brooks Page A

reaction, until she
realised the lascivious performance was not what was making her
excited. The images filling her head were not those of the naked
dancers but of herself sinking to her knees or standing naked and
exposed before Drake. She remembered how she had shivered in fear
and arousal as he had lifted her tiny loin covering to expose her
bald sex, and the instant tingling his broad finger had provoked as
he had slid it into her pussy. By the time the Africans had
finished their carnal display of sexual agility and abandon, Pam’s
blood was racing through her veins, her nipples pulsing, and
trembling warmth once more teasing her sex.
    The moment the applause died the
Harcourts rose, drawing Pam to her feet, and set off towards the
passenger cabins. Stunned and breathless from what she had
witnessed, and with the girl’s caning reminding her of the
consequences of any disobedience, she followed meekly in their
wake. She looked back when they reached the door and saw
Persephone’s glittering green gaze upon her and a pout of what
might have been displeasure on her glossy lips.
    The couple were not gentle but
neither did they hurt Pam the way the blonde mistress had. While
their own slave girl helped Mrs. Harcourt undress, Pam had to
assist Mr. Harcourt to do the same and then suck him while his wife
knelt at her side, watching intently and continually smoothing her
hands over the welts the whip had carved into Pam’s back and
buttocks. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing, but nowhere near
as bad as the flogging Miss Peake had given her tits.
    She found it harder to make
herself lick the woman’s pussy and nibble her bud with her lips,
but the man’s fingers working rhythmically in Pam’s own sex as she
did it acted as both threat and encouragement. After that the
couple’s focus turned to one another. Harcourt mounted his wife,
and Pam had only to lie on the bed beside her and do her best to
ignore their noisy enthusiasm as they made love for several
embarrassing minutes.
    They did not continue their
activity to its logical conclusion. Instead, with his wife holding
Pam’s head and the weight of Harcourt’s body astride her keeping
her in place, she was forced to suffer the indignity of the man’s
bulbous-headed cock jetting thick, sticky come over her face. To
her surprise Mrs. Harcourt lapped the glutinous stuff from her
cheeks, nose, chin and tightly compressed lips and positioned her
mouth a few inches above Pam’s. Mr. Harcourt leaned close.
    “Open.”
    Fighting nausea, Pam obeyed.
Mrs. Harcourt’s lips parted and released a thin, slow trickle of
her husband’s semen into the American girl’s mouth. As it pooled at
the back of her throat, Pam resisted the need to gag. Mrs. Harcourt
sat up, breasts jiggling as she gave a shiver and smacked her
lips.
    “Swallow,” she told Pam.
    Somehow she forced the slimy,
salty fluid down to her stomach without vomiting. An image of her
kneeling before Drake and doing the same popped into her head. Her
pussy gave a long, rippling tremor.
    Harcourt rose and with his shaft
already showing signs of reviving gave one of her erect nipples a
tweak. “Good girl.” His attention returned at once to his wife. She
was pretty but with her breasts beginning to droop, her thick waist
and plump thighs she had nowhere near the beauty of the young slave
girls. Yet it was plain he preferred her. He was proof that
emotions like affection, compassion and love did exist in this
world. It was not only a place of cruelty and oppression and
indifference to suffering… unless you happened to be a slave. But
his wife had better watch out. Harcourt was a man. He was bound to
betray her in the end.
    He took a coin from the bedside
table and gave it to Pam before pushing her towards the door. Her
glance back showed he had already rejoined his wife by the time
their slave girl closed it behind Pam. Loincloth clutched in one
hand, she stood in the corridor and examined the coin in the